The clock in the center on the wall in the café chimed to announce it was two o’clock in the morning.

In the middle of the night, everything was silent. As the ceiling fan rotated slowly, Kaname was as usual quietly reading the novel that Kazu had provided.

Resembling a still-life object that had been blended into a painting of the café, Kazu was completely motionless—except for a single teardrop, running down her cheek.

iv

Husband and Wife

People tend to feel happy when spring arrives, especially after a cold winter.

When spring begins, however, cannot be pinpointed to one particular moment. There is no one day that clearly marks when winter ends and spring begins. Spring hides inside winter. We notice it emerging with our eyes, our skin and other senses. We find it in new buds, a comfortable breeze and the warmth of the sun. It exists alongside winter.

“Is your mind still on Kaname?” asked Nagare Tokita, as if speaking to himself. He was sitting on a counter stool dexterously folding paper napkins into cranes.

Nagare’s muttering was directed at Kazu Tokita, who was behind him. But Kazu continued to wipe the table silently and adjusted the position of the coaster on which the sugar pot sat.

Nagare placed the seventh paper crane on the table.

“I think you should have the baby,” he said, directing his thin almond-shaped eyes at Kazu as she went about her work. “I think Kaname definitely—”

clang-dong

The sound of the doorbell cut him off midsentence, but neither Nagare nor Kazu said, “Hello, welcome.”

In this café, once a visitor had come through the door with the bell attached to it, they had to cross the hall before entering the room. Nagare watched the entrance in silence.

After a moment, Kiyoshi Manda appeared looking sheepish. Kiyoshi was a detective who had reached retirement age that spring. He wore a trench coat and an old hunting cap, and looked like a detective in a TV police drama from the seventies. Despite being a detective, there was nothing intimidating or hard about him. He was about the same height as Kazu and smiled often. He resembled any other sociable man in his later years, whom you might meet anywhere.

The hands of the clock in the middle of the wall were pointing to ten minutes to eight. The café closed at eight.

“Is it all right?” he asked tentatively.

Kazu replied as always, “Yes, come in,” but Nagare just nodded in a somewhat subdued manner.

When Kiyoshi visited the café, he would always sit at the table closest to the entrance and order a coffee. But today, instead of sitting in his regular chair, he stood in the same place, uncertainly.

“Please, take a seat,” offered Kazu from behind the counter as she presented him with a glass of water and gestured for him to sit down.